


Sleeping Beauty

by rejoyce



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Takes place whenever, sleepy hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27228451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rejoyce/pseuds/rejoyce
Summary: Everyone has retreated to their rooms for the night. Except Masumi, who fell asleep on the couch. Izumi overthinks so loudly she wakes him up.
Relationships: Tachibana Izumi/Usui Masumi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> short izumi/masumi fic!

It's a little strange sometimes, being the only girl – _woman_ – in a building with over twenty boys and men. As blatant as some of them are in their advances, Izumi rarely seems to notice and if she notices, well, that's probably not what he meant, so no need to consider her own feelings.

This willful naïveté keeps her focused and, more importantly, leaves no room for embarrassing one-sided crushes.

Except...

As Izumi makes her way toward kitchen to refill her water bottle, she catches her exception fast asleep on the sofa.  
  
He's sitting almost upright with his head tilted ever so slightly toward his right shoulder, lips barely parted.  
  
Had she been anyone else, she would probably assume he's awake. But because she's not, she can tell by a single glance. It's not that they know each other so intimately – although, after all these years, everyone in this theatre knows more about each other than they've ever wanted to know about any other person – it's that, save the slow rise and fall of his chest, he's completely still.  
  
His gaze isn't fixated on her, he isn't coming as close as she'll allow him, he isn't hovering around her, begging (literally and figuratively) for her approval and affection.  
  
So he must be asleep.

Yes, Izumi is fully aware of his crush. She may be blind to flirting, but few people could let repeated confessions fall on deaf ears.

She tries to ignore it. Sometimes she's bold enough to discourage it, but other times... it’s kind of sweet. And she resents herself for that thought immediately – _how selfish of you_ , she chastises herself, _to find joy in this lost boy's unhealthy romantic fixation_.

She never encourages it. She's supportive towards him, as she is to anyone else. This includes criticism where needed, in private and professional matters. He feels a certain way about her, he's made this obvious to anyone who knows both of them, but it is not mutual. She has made this as obvious as she can without daily rejection. She decided that it wouldn't be mutual since she first realized his feelings would long outlast any conventional crush and she was forced to finally consider her own. That is to say, she didn’t have feelings for him and wouldn’t develop any.  
  
The surge of affection she feels seeing him like this not unique to Masumi.

There's an unidentifiable sensation in her stomach as she studies the relaxed expression on his face. For a split second she wonders if she should just get her water and get back to work, but this is such a rare sight that she decides to linger, gently placing her water bottle on the coffee table in front of the couch and slowly making her way around the table, sitting down next to Masumi so carefully as though his waking would be the catalyst to the end of the world.

She can't help the smile growing on her face, but she put up a good fight.

...

After a few moments – seconds, she hopes – the self-awareness threatens to seep back in. She's just about ready to scold herself again and leave when Masumi suddenly stirs, struggling to open his eyes after a deep sleep, eyelids held together by some invisible glue. "Director..." he manages to squeeze out of his throat, especially unused to speaking after just waking up. Izumi isn’t sure he’s actually seen her, and briefly wonders if he makes a habit of calling her name after waking up.  
  
Which is a ridiculous thought, conjured up by a mind desperate to avoid whatever’s going on right now.  
  
She blinks a few times, considering their situation. She's sitting right next to him with a soft, dumb smile she's failing to hide and leaning into his personal space to get a better look at his face. Before she can laugh it off and joke about how she must be developing maternal instincts, Masumi shifts to lean completely into and onto her: side pressed to side, using her shoulder as a pillow.

"Masumi..." she starts, already sounding resigned where she intends to sound reprimanding, "You should sleep in your bed."

She moves to stand up, except Masumi, whose hands had previously been at his sides, moves faster and pulls her back. Use of force is quite rare for him – he aims to earn her attentions, not demand them. Considering his still-squinting eyes and heaving chest, she decides this is a temporary lapse in judgment.  
  
Actually, this clutch is more reminiscent of a cat using its nails to keep its favorite petting hand close when it starts to move away. Not quite worthy of a lecture. Not while he's still half-asleep, at least. She makes a mental note to mention this later, if she dares, to discourage it more convincingly than her half-hearted suggestion that he should go to his room instead.

He mumbles something in protest and she reflexively moves away from him at once, gripping his shoulders to stabilize herself and ensure her sudden movement doesn't launch him off the couch. It was barely audible at all, no way to make out what he said, but she still feels his breath on the nape of her neck after she's ensured he’s stuck at arm’s length. If he's surprised, her thorough search of his face reveals nothing. He generously decides to repeat himself, looking away for a split second before steeling himself, eyes boring right into her. Through her. "Let me have this," he says, lucid and clear, eyes pleading. Masumi is always intensely earnest and open with her. Yet, somehow, this feels different. Izumi wonders if the glassy look to his eyes is due to a lack of sleep, or...

"Five minutes," she conceded. _Unbelievable_. She had deliberately erected these barriers, only to willingly tear them down in a moment of weakness. This was irresponsible, no matter how innocent a gesture.

In reply, Masumi, aware she may get up and leave if he carelessly resumes their strange embrace, slowly inches closer to rest his head on her shoulder once again.

This time he keeps his eyes open, committing this perspective to memory. He's insistent and, honestly, he may even admit he's a little delusional, but he's not completely unaware that there are limitations to what they can be to each other. In a way, he does know when to push and when to hold back, it’s just that his mind is always screaming at him to push.

As an actor, time is of the essence. So he's fully aware that it's been almost five minutes now, although it doesn't seem like Izumi will be speaking up to remind him of the approaching deadline anytime soon. It's a show of responsibility and maturity on his part, that he would willingly pull away from this when asked even though his body is on fire where they touched, his nose overwhelmed by the amalgamate of fragrances she'd encountered that day, his vision filled with the detailed imperfections of her skin, ears hearing nothing but the soft rustling of their clothes and their combined breathing. A part of him, the part that would injure himself if only she would tend to him, insists he stay here forever.  
  
But the desire for something approaching a sustainable relationship weighs stronger, so he breaks away from her slowly, his cheeks still glowing a reddish pink. He offers a soft, small smile and a simple thank you that could not possibly convey the depths of his gratitude.

"See you tomorrow," she says, already worried this may change something between the two of them.

It won't change anything if she doesn't want it to.  
  
He wants her _good morning_ to mean _I want to wake up next to you every day_ ; he's used to his mind supplying wrong information, twisting simple gestures and running with it.  
  
"See you tomorrow." 

With a small, reluctant wave, he heads back to his room to sleep. Whether he does or doesn't succeed, he spends all night thinking about Izumi.

When she can no longer see him, she considers something that terrifies her:  
  
That that sinking feeling in her stomach might mean that embarrassing one-sided crush…  
  
…May not be as one-sided as she wants it to be.

**Author's Note:**

> what is this, a fanfic for ants? first time posting. ever


End file.
